Then blackness. ‘Oh, I don’t wish to marry you. Her father’s ideas of expostulation were a little harsh and forcible, and over the claret-colored table-cloth and under the gas chandelier, with his hat and umbrella between them like the mace in Parliament, he and his daughter contrived to have a violent quarrel. . “You do not quite understand,” she said gently. She knew, or guessed his mission too, for more than once their eyes met, and she laughed mockingly at him. \" \"Nah, he's probably a cool guy, seems laid back enough.
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